⸻

The last place you ever expected to be on a Saturday night was wrapped in the arms of Rafe Cameron, the devil himself in Vineyard Vines, pretending like you were head-over-heels in love. But there you were—his arm slung casually around your waist, your laugh a little too loud, your eyes a little too soft when you looked at him.

It was a lie, of course. All of it. Well… most of it.

Two weeks earlier, your life had been perfectly Rafe-free. You worked shifts at the island bookstore, took college classes online, and avoided the Kooks like they were some kind of disease. Rafe, with his smug smirk and tailored polos, was the worst of them. The two of you barely spoke—except when he was mocking you in front of his friends, or you were calling him out on being a privileged jackass.

So how did it come to this? Easy: revenge.

You needed a date to your ex’s engagement party—yes, engagement—and Rafe needed to prove to his father he was “settling down” with a respectable girl. (You weren’t sure how you made the cut, but you didn’t ask too many questions.) You’d both agreed it was mutually beneficial. Temporary. Totally fake.

But the problem with pretending… is that sometimes, it starts to feel real.

Like when he picked you up that night, wearing a suit he clearly didn’t care about, but cleaned up just enough to make your stomach flip. Or when he whispered, “You good?” into your ear when your ex walked in with his fiancée, just loud enough to anchor you, just soft enough to sound like more than pretend.

You weren’t supposed to notice the way his hand lingered a little too long on your lower back. He wasn’t supposed to look at you like you were the only real thing in a room full of fake smiles.

But here you were—faking a relationship with Rafe Cameron. And maybe—just maybe—starting to wish it wasn’t fake at all.